


AkaFuri Collection

by aquamarine_nebula



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Trans!furi more often than not, proposal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:07:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6634846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquamarine_nebula/pseuds/aquamarine_nebula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from the start to the finish line</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. bento notes and proposals

**Author's Note:**

> bento messages and proposals
> 
> for more akfr, please consider buying the 'akafuri fanbook'!! http://akafurifanbook.tumblr.com/post/143209029984/at-long-lastpre-orders-for-the-fan-book-is-now

The phrases shouldn’t be running into one long indecipherable _chunk_ of sound. Seijūrō blinked a few times, holding back what would have been a very rude sigh, and rededicated himself to listening to his advisor.

“…as you know, the London branch has lost stock value recently…”

Kōki had suggested a few weeks ago that they take the upcoming trip to London together. Seijūrō finding out exactly what was going wrong there shouldn’t take too much time; it was a small branch anyway and he would scarcely be a few million yen worse off if he closed the branch altogether. Maybe London was a step too far anyway.

“…I know you don’t like to get mixed up with your employees personal affairs, but if it’s affecting the company then you have no choice…”

Wait, _could_ he even go to London? He hadn’t checked his passport in heavens knows how long. He wasn’t even sure if he knew where it _was_. He made a mental note to check, and after a second scribbled it down on a post-it.

“…no real problem, as the branch in China and of course here is doing very well…”

Oh, the passport was in his briefcase, wasn’t it? And he’d completely forgotten, but he’d gone to the US only a few months ago to help Kagami and Kuroko move in. Kagami was probably training right now, and Seijūrō couldn’t help the surge of jealousy at Kagami being able to live his dream. He would give the entire company up that second if he could play basketball professionally.

The advisor was watching him expectantly, and Seijūrō had heard precisely three words of the thousand-odd he’d said.

“Okay,” he ventured, and the advisor nodded, bowing quickly before leaving.

He took his phone out of his pocket and sent a short email to Kōki telling him to pick a date for London before bringing out the bento Kōki had packed for him. ‘ _Please work hard today!_ ’ was written on a piece of paper taped to the lid next to a roughly drawn heart.

Now he just felt guilty.

 

 

 

“I’m home,” he called out, waiting until he heard Kōki’s response from the kitchen to join him.

“So I checked both our schedules and found some cheap flights, seeing as it’s not really holiday season there was a good range, although the flight _back_ will be a little more expensive. I thought we could stay for three weeks? If your meetings are around the one-week mark you’ll be over the jetlag, and we’ll have a week, maybe ten days to sightsee. I thought we could go see my brother too as he’s still in England for a couple of months,” he said, barely pausing midsentence to accept Seijūrō’s kiss.

“Don’t worry about _that_. We’re flying first class.”

Kōki shook his head furiously. “Last time that happened they plied me with too much champagne and I couldn’t even help Kagami move in I was so tipsy.”

“And Kuroko took all those photos of you,” Seijūrō mused.

“What?” he barked.

“Nothing. How about business class?”

Kōki glowered at him, but shrugged, fiddling with the end of his fringe. “Fine.”

“It’s not like you had to accept all the champagne,” he retorted over his shoulder, hanging up his coat and propping his briefcase against the wall, sighing when it fell over onto his feet.

Kōki pulled the laptop from the opposite side of the table and hit a few keys, ignoring Seijūrō’s comment. “Good day?”

“Uneventful. Better now I’m home.” Kōki shuffled over so Seijūrō could sit beside him. “You?”

“Fine,” he said distractedly. “It’s double the price of the economy flights,” Kōki whined, poking at the screen.

“So? The company’s paying for it.”

“I thought you were going to England because it was in trouble.”

“Just one branch.”

Kōki eyed him, eyed the screen, and eyed him again. “I’ll pay for my own flight,” he declared quickly, his fingers drumming against his thigh.

“Are you nervous about something?” Seijūrō asked. Kōki couldn’t hide the flash of panic, but leant in to kiss him.

“Nothing serious.”

The nervous energy quelled somewhat, and like usual he was fast asleep in Seijūrō’s arms a few minutes after they’d gone to bed, leaving Seijūrō thinking through his plan.

Well, it wasn’t really a _plan_. A couple of years ago, before he really understood what Kōki was like it could have been referred to as a ‘plan’. Practically an ambush. But a proposal should always have the other person in mind, so as he kept on putting off asking Kōki to marry him from nerves or uncertainty, the ‘plan’ went from making a very public, albeit romantic, proposal to a quiet proposal at home. But maybe this trip could be a good middle ground. Maybe they could be sitting at the fountain or beneath the lion statues in Trafalgar Square, at the top of the Eye, beneath Big Ben sometime in the evening. Maybe he could wait until the clock struck midnight and whisper it in his ear.

Kōki shifted beside him and Seijūrō pressed a kiss to his forehead until he calmed.

 

 

 

The advisor didn’t _shut up_.

Sure, it was his job to help Seijūrō make the right decision about everything to do with the company, but he had such a monotone voice. And regardless, Seijūrō couldn’t think about much other than how Kōki had been even more nervous that morning, worrying his lower lip with his teeth and avoiding Seijūrō’s eyes. He’d have to talk to him tonight to be sure nothing was wrong. Otherwise it might pollute their trip and the ring Seijūrō kept in the middle draw of his desk would dull and rust before he had the opportunity to give it to him.

Finally, he bowed and let himself out, and Seijūrō leant back in his chair, ignoring the pile of paper before him that had been dropped off by various assistants. Maybe Kōki had something big going on today that he hadn’t wanted to tell Seijūrō? But what wouldn’t he want to tell him?

Maybe it would be a good idea to go down to his shop after he’d eaten. It was only a few blocks away, no more than twenty minutes’ walk. And if there was something _serious_ and Kōki was only waiting for Seijūrō to firmly ask him then he couldn’t just silently wait for it to blow over.

The note was stuck the wrong side down, more proof that Kōki was frazzled and anxious for some reason, and Seijūrō lifted the lid off and took a bite out of the onigiri before peeling the note off the lid to turn it over, wondering for a moment whether he’d forgotten to put a message on it.

Which he hadn’t, but Seijūrō had to read it a couple of times to be sure after he choked on his onigiri. But even blinking and rubbing his eyes didn’t change the short, penned question, ‘ _Marry me?_ ’

All for the better, really. He didn’t want to think about what the alternative would have been. Clutching the note in his hand, he barely paused to wrench his jacket off the coat stand before diving outside.

“Cancel my meetings for the rest of the day,” he ordered the secretary, who was approaching him with two coffees in her hands.

“But—”

“I won’t be in,” he continued, already at the elevator, which moved to the ground floor much too slowly, and seemed to stop at every other floor to allow people on and off. Next time, he was getting an office on the ground floor. No more presiding above everyone on the fifty-sixth. Finally, the elevator touched down and he slipped through the half-empty lobby, nodding politely at Takao who was balling up pieces of paper and shooting them at a bin and only holding off until he was at the pavement before setting off at a sprint.

He hadn’t stopped his training, still half-hoping in the back of his mind that he would gain the courage needed to sell the company on and join the Japanese basketball team, and hopefully pulverise Kagami, and as a result was barely breathing hard as he burst through the door to Kōki’s small flower shop.

Which was full with people who turned and stared at him, their eyes only bothering him for a second before he found Kōki.

He’d probably read too many romance books when he first realised that Kōki was the love of his life, because he didn’t find it ridiculous when the rest of the world greyed out and Kōki was the only person in colour, all he could see and hear.

He blushed a deep red after his eyes flicked down to Seijūrō’s right hand, in which the note was still grasped and gave someone else a glance. Probably Fukuda to urge him to take over. Seijūrō followed him when he went into the back room, hardly waiting for the door to be closed before saying, “ _Yes_.”

Kōki blushed even deeper, if that was possible, almost throwing himself into Seijūrō’s arms and hiding his face in his chest, but if his shaking shoulders were any indication he seemed to be crying. “I’m sorry, I just… I wasn’t sure if you wanted… I mean we haven’t _talked_ about it but… I couldn’t wait any longer.” He covered his face with his hands when Seijūrō pulled away, and protested when he tried to tug his hands down.

“I was planning to propose in London.”

Kōki peeked through his fingers. “Really?”

“I’ve been trying to figure out a perfect time for three years. I’ve had the _ring_ for that long and… I left it at the office,” he realised when he dug around his pockets. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

Kōki was staring at him, seeming to have forgotten that his cheeks were wet. Seijūrō brushed them with his thumbs, stepping forwards to kiss his forehead. “Sei, three years ago we’d been together… two months?”

Seijūrō shifted his weight. “Which was why I didn’t push it.”

“We were eighteen.”

“Which was why I held off,” he said. “I knew after a week of being together, Kōki.”

Kōki pulled a face. “That just makes me feel bad.”

“Why?”

“I only knew a week ago.”

“So long as you know.”


	2. plants and wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eri and aito originally breedafool's

Although Kōki wasn’t exactly sure why he acted out in the way he did, he could at least pin this idiosyncrasy on Seijūrō’s shoulders. It was acting out to bother _him_ , after all. However, all it caused was confused expressions, and bugging Kōki for advice on how to fix it.

Every time, Kōki almost said ‘ _Well, if you spent more time with me maybe I wouldn’t be feeding the damn plants wine’._

Seijūrō’s wine collection: something he was inexplicably fond of for someone who didn’t drink. Some heirloom from his father’s family, but he still hadn’t realised that Kōki had stolen a few of the bottles. He _did_ try drinking it, to begin with, but almost spat it out immediately, understanding at that point what Seijūrō had meant by his odd expression when Kōki questioned why he had wine he wouldn’t drink. This was nothing more than a _collectable_ , the money for which could be going towards education for the twins when they were older.

There was another excuse on the machine, and Kōki did his best to not swear too loudly. He’d been _mortified_ when Eri had decided to say his first word in a room full of strangers (‘ _shit_ ’) and right now his son was staring at him intently.

“I didn’t say it,” Kōki exclaimed, and Eri sneezed.

“I’m pissed off at him, th—no, I’m _annoyed_. _Aggravated_.”

Not that he had any clue if Eri was understanding anything he said, but he still garbled a response.

The remedy to this annoyance was either making sure books covered every inch of Seijūrō’s side of the bed for when he returned, or choosing another priceless vintage to give to another plant. Kōki wondered when Seijūrō would realise that his _own_ plants were in perfect shape, whilst others were slowly drooping to the floor.

“Can you keep an eye on the twins for a minute?” he asked Sachi, their maid (who, to be fair, already had Aito in her arms and was swinging him around). She nodded and he went down to the cellar, eyeing the extensive racks filled with myriad bottles. Before, he’d always gone for the oldest ones, but at that point he didn’t care, just picked one at random and quietly made his way back up the stairs, checking to make sure no one was close enough to notice him stealing into Seijūrō’s office.

Just piercing the foil and retrieving the corkscrew he’d hidden behind one of the plants helped the aggravation wash out of him, and by the time the last drop had soaked into the soil, he was feeling a lot better, even enough to blow a kiss at the picture of the two of them Seijūrō kept on his desk.

Finally, he dragged one of the filing cabinets a few metres to the left to attain an old one behind it, opened the bottom draw, and added the bottle to the collection. The cork he slid into his pocket to leave in Seijūrō’s bedside table once he went upstairs. The filing cabinet was returned to its rightful place, and Kōki brushed down his jeans, satisfied with a job well done.

That night, he blearily woke to Seijūrō loudly dropping piles of books to the floor, and glowered at him until Seijūrō broke and looked away.

“If you came back when you were _supposed_ to maybe you’d get into bed before I had the chance to put the books there.”

“So you admit it’s just to antagonise me?”

“It’s three in the morning, Sei. _You’re_ antagonising _me_.”

Seijūrō pulled Kōki into his arms and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I know. I’m sorry.”

A lot of people would have wondered why Kōki bothered to stay. Surely, no husband at all was better than a husband _in absentia_ , but the way he made Kōki feel with just a touch was something he was addicted to. It wasn’t even sexual, just a pure sense of belonging. After all, Seijūrō was working that hard for their family.

Seijūrō’s hand traced his hip and his teeth pulled at Kōki’s earlobe. “Aren’t you _tired?_ ”

“Yes. But for the past twelve hours I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

The proof of _that_ was pressed against his back, and Kōki knew he’d been angry about _something_ , but it was slipping through his hands and being replaced by Seijūrō.

-

Seijūrō was flushed the next day when Kōki awoke, and he would have put that down to his own prowess in bed having an effect for hours afterwards, had he not also mumbled something indecipherable about the paintings on the ceiling (of which there were none). Kōki chewed on his lip and touched his forehead with the back of his hand, pulling it back when it almost scalded him.

“This is my fault,” he whined, and Seijūrō blinked at him.

“What is?” he said in a scratchy voice, and tightly curled up on his side.

“A fever couldn’t have come on _this_ quickly. I should have realised last night.”

Seijūrō probably meant for his smirk to be seductive, but it just came on as dopey. “Having sex with you is worth a fever.”

Kōki sighed, brushing Seijūrō’s hair back from his forehead. “I’m getting you some medicine. Try not to let the twins in; I don’t want them catching it.”

After a bit of coaxing, he’d forced Seijūrō to take the medicine (who was always a child when it came to such things), given him a couple more blankets in case he got cold and the baby monitor, before feeding the twins their breakfasts.

He was disgruntled, but still affectionate at the end of the day, which was a sure sign that he felt bad. Kōki, though quickly losing patience, coddled him (and at the end of the day, when Seijūrō was fast asleep and the twins were beginning to droop, he threw some aloe water into an aloe vera plant—not quite as satisfying as the wine, but both were Seijūrō’s). The next day he felt well enough to go downstairs and keep the twins entertained whilst Kōki went food shopping, and the day after Kōki woke to him pulling a suit out of the closet.

“You can’t be serious,” Kōki said, and had the satisfaction of watching Seijūrō startle enough that he dropped the suit.

“What do you mean?” Seijūrō said, getting that infuriating crease between his eyebrows that he only got when he wasn’t paying attention to Kōki and instead thinking about work.

“You’re not well enough to work, Sei! You were basically dead yesterday evening after the twins went to bed.”

“I’m perfectly fine. It’s a testament to you, really,” he said, fumbling with the tie. “If anyone else had taken care of me I’d be in bed for a week.”

“You can’t _flatter_ your way out of not taking care of yourself.” When Seijūrō bent to kiss him he grabbed hold of the tie, wrapping it round his hand a couple of times to keep him in place. (He didn’t miss the way Seijūrō’s eyes darkened and his breath caught and his eyes flicked down his body, and that was an easy way to keep him home but would falsely prove that he _didn’t_ believe Seijūrō was really ill.)

“I’ll only be a couple of hours,” Seijūrō said when Kōki only watched him. “Three at the most. I need to brief some people on the meeting with Microsoft on Friday.”

“Delegate.”

“I can’t.”

“Surely _someone_ wants to prove their worth—”

“I have to do it myself.”

Kōki pressed his lips together and let go of the tie, letting Seijūrō refix it himself. “ _I’ll_ come pick you up at ten. With the twins. They’ll be heartbroken if you don’t come home.”

Seijūrō looked at the clock, looked at Kōki, looked back at the clock. “Ten-thirty.”

“No.”

He sighed. “Fine.” He kissed Kōki once more, murmured “ _Thank you_ ,” against his lips, and left before Kōki could grumble that he wouldn’t _have_ to be thanked if Seijūrō just took care of himself.

He was at the office promptly by ten, and his secretary let Kōki in to sit in his office, in which he was waiting for fifteen minutes becoming increasingly vexed before Seijūrō called him.

“What’s the excuse this time?” he said as soon as he picked up.

“Last minute revision on the pitch. It’ll only take an hour—”

“An _hour_? Sei, I have two fourteen month old children in here with me, do you really think I want to be stuck in your office for an hour?”

“Of course not. Go home, okay? I’ll be there by midday.”

“How are you feeling?”

“F-fine.”

“It astounds me how a businessman can be so _bad_ at lying.”

“By twelve. I promise.” He hung up then, and Kōki let himself fall into his chair. Wriggling his shoulders, he winced when his binder dug into his ribs and watched the twins as they looked expectantly at the door, believing that Seijūrō would walk through it and give them both crushing hugs. Eri would be the happiest to see him; he’d idolised Seijūrō almost since the day he was born, and even at his young age would copy some of his mannerisms. Aito would pretend to be shy, burying his face into Seijūrō’s chest but quietly being thrilled at the attention.

It wasn’t just Kōki that Seijūrō was disappointing, the twins would be heartbroken if Seijūrō carried on piling up the hours. Some weeks he was easily at the office for ninety hours, and Kōki would almost forget what he looked like, the sound of his voice softened in his ear, the exact sensation when Seijūrō would run his hands down his arm fracturing into dust, the heat when he would kiss along his neck cooling to ice. Let alone what their children would forget about him. Some day he would come back and be a stranger to them.

“Now, boys,” he said, crouching down next to them. They blinked up at him with their big eyes. “I want you to keep quiet about what I’m about to do, okay?”

He nodded and they copied him, and Kōki got up with a purpose and started going through Seijūrō’s cupboard. He _knew_ there were a couple of bottles here, the particularly rare ones that he didn’t want to risk the twins breaking, and he finally found them. Picking one at random, he shut the door of the cupboard again with his shoulder.

It was probably the same kind of strength that allowed mothers to lift burning cars off of their children that allowed him to pry out the cork by sheer force (some sloshing onto the floor, but it was wooden it would clean perfectly well) and dumping all the contents into a ficus’s soil. It would be droopy by sundown. He placed the bottle back into the cupboard, and the cork next to it.

“All done,” he said brightly. The twins both stared at him before turning back to watch the door. “We’ll go home now.” They protested being strapped back into the buggy, still expecting Seijūrō to join them, and he was haunted by their teary faces all the way home.

Seijūrō was back on the dot at twelve, cautiously eyeing Kōki before finally giving the twins the hug they wanted. “Feeling any better?” he asked, and Seijūrō hesitated before saying that he was feeling quite a bit worse.

“I’ll take the next few days off,” he continued.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“And… I will try to cut back on hours.”

Kōki narrowed his eyes. That promise had already been made several times to no avail.

“Fifty hour week with weekends free. And I won’t bring too much work back. I’ll… delegate.”

“Thirty-five hours.”

“I can’t go that low.”

“Forty?”

“Forty-five,” he countered, and Kōki took a deep breath before nodding.

“With the view to decrease it more.”

“Or what, you’ll hold my plants hostage?”

Kōki put his head to one side with a slow smile. After all, _his_ idiosyncrasies weren’t putting a strain on their relationship.

“I have a camera in my office, you know.”

“Well you’ll have to hold to your word, won’t you? The ficus won’t be able to take another bottle of wine.”


End file.
